


Quadrouple Dare

by iDiru



Series: Double Dare Verse [3]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: 100 percent ignoring the ages, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, First Time Bottoming, Humor, M/M, Rimming, Roman "am I gay" Godfrey, Sort Of, drinking so much dumb bitch juice, getting caught, i continue to not know how to write a male orgasm, lynda is only briefly mentionedn ot involved, mentions of bodily functions, peter is kind of agressive, pissy roman, we don't talk about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDiru/pseuds/iDiru
Summary: Roman decides he wants to try being on the receiving end, and to also try a few other kinks.
Relationships: Roman Godfrey/Peter Rumancek
Series: Double Dare Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1229216
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Quadrouple Dare

**Author's Note:**

> ret-conning the male orgasm since whenever i started writing fanfic

“Does it hurt?”

The words came out of nowhere, penetrating what had been a silent moment. Roman had said it, almost as an afterthought to Peter's attempted departure from his car. Peter stalled, one leg half out of the car and his hand on the door.

“Uh...what?” he asked, confusion evident. Of course he'd be confused. There was no context. Roman probably should have kept his mouth shut. He could already feel the regret seeping in.

“Getting fucked in the ass,” Roman said, trying to be nonchalant about it but he was sure that his tone conveyed some nervousness about the entire situation.

“Y-yeah,” Peter stammered, not from nerves, but from general confusion. The topic had come out of nowhere. “Yeah, at first. Why are you asking me this now?”

“I've been thinking about it...” Roman mumbled, feeling shame and embarrassment starting to creep into his cheeks in the form of a blush. Peter hesitated, but he pulled himself back into the car once more, door still open for the time being.

“Really?” Peter asked somewhat flatly. “So I guess that's why you were sitting so weird,” he remarked.

“Why the fuck were you staring at me?” Roman asked, only half mockingly offended.

“Because you were staring at me,” Peter responded.

“Whatever,” Roman said with a scoff. “Yeah, I was thinking about it, so what?”

“So...what?” Peter said, again somewhat confused. “I mean, you brought it up.”

“So is your fucking mom home?” Roman asked, annoyed despite the fact that he was beating around the bush so greatly that if he kept beating, it was going to go bare.

“Oh... _oh_ , you mean like, right now?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” Roman said, and once again he was caught between embarrassment and annoyance. Despite the fact that he was asking Peter to fuck him, he was feeling very defensive and combative. He was also harboring a secret, one that he wasn't quite sure he wanted Peter to find out. But he'd gotten himself into this mess...this was his fault. “I mean, we don't have to.”

“She's not home,” Peter responded, his voice now filled with a different kind of energy. Excited, barely it seemed, but also somewhat nervous. “And I wouldn't say no to getting laid, but...are you sure?”

“I'm fucking sure,” Roman snapped, sighing afterwards. “Sorry, I just...” he trailed off, falling silent. “I'm a little wound up.”

“Well you're kinda making my job harder,” Peter said, finally getting out of the car and waiting for Roman to follow, which he did.

This wasn't their first time since Roman first fucked Peter after getting high. Roman had been keen on exploring different aspects of himself after that, if slowly. Even still, he was a bit hesitant to let Peter put anything in him despite the fact that he _knew_ he enjoyed it. And when he did let him, oh did he enjoy it. But Roman was growing ever more curious. Ever since he'd let Peter eat him out in his car to completion, to which Roman's wild flailing accidentally slammed on the horn and scared the shit out of both of them, so much so that Peter ended up with a black eye from Roman's knee colliding with his orbital socket. It wasn't like it had been new. It wasn't the first, the last, or even the second time he'd let Peter into him, if only in fingers and tongue alone. He was very slowly warming him up, though.

Roman had tried it on himself. When no one was looking, in the dead of night, and he could be as slow or secretive as he wanted to. But in these nights, when he was alone, he couldn't help but think, or wonder, what it would be like. In the heat of passion and pleasure his mind would wonder and he'd imagine Peter, taking him. It sent a wave of emotions through him, in these times. The white hot heat that would writhe in his belly and down his groin, and after he'd come, a secondary white hot feeling of embarrassment and shame. But he could never truly know what it felt like, not until he'd done it. But it wasn't the only thing Roman had been exploring, and he was wary of this secondary fact that Peter would discover it as well..

When they entered Peter's trailer, Roman swallowed thickly from nerves once more. It felt too quiet, too alone. Of course, Roman wanted to be alone with Peter. It would throw a huge damper on their plans if someone _had_ been home and yet Roman was almost hoping...so that he'd have an excuse to turn tail and run. But he felt like it was a step he _wanted_ to take, he _had_ to. This curiosity, this desire...it would never be sated until he gave in. Maybe it was like ripping off a band-aid; get it over with, and deal with what might have been just as painful. Peter wasted no time, though, and he was starting to think the band-aid should've been pulled slower. Peter had set his stuff down in the living room and lead Roman straight to his room.

He quietly turned to the drawer next to the bed, pulling out a few items; lube, and a box of what he assumed was weed. Good call; Roman was sure he couldn't do this without weed...

“Sit down,” Peter said, and Roman did so hesitantly. He pulled a joint out of the box, and a lighter. Roman had been correct. “You're acting way too twitchy.”

“No I'm not,” Roman said, taking the joint and lighting it before Peter could do anything. He breathed in deeply, ready to take some of the edge off at once.

“You know, we don't have to do this...” Peter said. “We could plan for another day.”

“That's fucking boring,” Roman said with a scoff. He shifted uncomfortably regardless, watching Peter watch him cautiously from his peripheral vision.

“You notice we never do this when we're sober?” Peter remarked.

“We're sober now. I'm bringing it up,” Roman responded. He passed the joint to Peter, who kicked his shoes off and flopped down on the bed vertically, watching as Roman sat there. He, too, kicked off his shoes but didn't move yet. Even though Peter was sober, he was far calmer than Roman was at the moment. He was kicking himself for being so nervous. This wasn't fucking new. He was just taking more than his fingers, and yet, he knew himself that this wasn't the only thing that made him nervous. But the truth is, Peter had been half right. Roman had been horny as hell, off and on, all day. It had been difficult to hide and it apparently wasn't hidden well enough for Peter. He really _had_ been thinking of it... He'd been thinking of it for days, he'd been thinking of it since he planned this specifically, with the knowledge that _today_ would be the day he asked.

Roman felt like he'd sat there for ages, and truth be told it was probably the weed that he'd been passing back and forth. He was still nervous, but it had lulled him into a sort of stupor for the moment. There was a calm that masked it. Gave it far less teeth. But alas, it had also slowed his perception of time. So he wasn't quite sure how long Peter had been waiting before he made the first move. He only knew when Peter was suddenly sitting behind him. He could feel Peter wrap his arms around him, kissing his neck.

“You need to relax,” he whispered against his neck.

“I am relaxed,” Roman spat.

“No you're not,” Peter said, running his hand down the front of Roman's shirt. Roman felt his stomach drop, but he felt Peter's hand run over the front of his jeans instead of down them. “You're tense, and that's going to really get in the way of shit.”

“I've been on edge all day,” he admitted in practically a whisper. He realized he was half hard already, not sure if it was the weed or something else. But he bucked his hand into Peter's as he touched him there. Soon enough he was leaning against him, his hips rolling against Peter's palm as he felt relaxation begin to sink in further.

“Were you thinking of me?” Peter asked, kissing along his neck and whispering against his skin. There was something different in his voice. Something erotic. Roman knew he'd awakened something in Peter. The calm veneer he had before was fading and beneath it was arousal. It was want, it was _need_.

“Yes,” Roman breathed out. “I was thinking of you. I thought I made that clear.”

“And was that the only time?” Peter asked, sucking a welt into his neck now.

“Maybe...no,” Roman admitted. He felt lost, but safe, in the palm of Peter's hand. But he tensed up the moment Peter undid his jeans. Slipped his hand underneath his shirt, down his pants on pure instinct. He felt Peter falter slightly, then stop. He knew why. His pulse was thundering in his chest, he could hear it in his ears beating like a drum. He knew what Peter had felt; where there should be cloth was lace and satin.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Peter asked. The heady arousal was gone, and now it was just confusion. Roman swallowed, fear welling up in him to replace that relaxed and safe feeling he'd had before.

“I, um...” he murmured. “I just wanted to try ...” he faltered once more. “I've just been thinking about...ugh, fuck..” he covered his face with his hands. “Don't make me say it out loud, Peter, it's fucking embarrassing.”

Roman felt the hand that had stilled push further, gripping his cock through the soft fabric. Roman hissed, jerking his hips up. It was almost unexpected with how embarrassed and nervous he was.

“Are those...panties, seriously?” Peter asked.

“Look, I've always been fucking curious, alright? I can take it all off if you want.”

“You wore this all day?” Peter asked, drawing his hands out of his pants. Roman felt his heart sinking. He'd weirded Peter out. He had just wanted to try it...Roman had always had a curiosity for the more feminine side of clothing. It had been Peter who brought out the curiosity far further. When he began exploring other aspects of himself, spurred on by that day in his home with the bet, it hadn't just been purely sexual. Roman had never truly allowed himself to wear such things, but today he decided he would. Maybe he shouldn't have asked Peter to fuck him on the same day. Maybe he should've kept this a secret; shameful and locked up in the closet. Nevertheless, it wasn't just the thought of Peter fucking him that had turned him on that day. It was the sheer taboo fact of what he had been wearing underneath his clothes, so inconspicuous and...erotic. But it's why he had been so on edge. So afraid of Peter seeing him, even though he wanted it. If he was going to get fucked, he wanted it to be extra. He wanted it to be something to ramp up the eroticism.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “So you want me to take it off or what?” he asked dejectedly.

“No,” Peter said, running his hand back up Roman's shirt. “But you can stop freaking out now. I'm not weirded out by it,” he said, placing a gentle kiss to his neck. “Did you do this for me?” he asked. He neared his earlobe, taking it gently between his teeth.

“Not exactly,” Roman responded, leaning heavier against him now. “It was more for myself. I wasn't sure how you'd react. I almost didn't go through with this.”

“Well, I'm curious,” Peter said. He pulled away from him, maneuvering Roman onto his back, vertically instead of horizontally. He hovered above him, reaching with the hand that wasn't bracing him to begin unbuttoning Roman's shirt. He felt that nervous pit back in his stomach again. “Maybe a little turned on...” Peter admitted. Roman suddenly stopped him, grabbing his hand to still his ministrations.

“It's not... _just_ panties,” Roman said, looking away from him.

“Well aren't you adventurous?” Peter said, flashing a smirk. Roman released his hand and he continued unbuttoning his shirt. Why was he still nervous? Peter had said he wasn't bothered by it. Perhaps it was a bit of his own shame. For it wasn't just arousal he felt, but the pinprick of shame, from doing something so taboo. It was taboo, wasn't it? These thoughts raged in his mind as he watched Peter work, finally unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it open. Roman pulled himself up just long enough to slide out of the shirt, laying there half bare before him. When Peter next sat back and got to his pants, the same pit attempted to form once again. And yet this pit was tentatively replaced by the heat of arousal and desire. It was so wrong, oh god it was so wrong, and somehow it turned him on just as much as it scared him. He felt so mixed up inside.

He was suddenly laid bare, or as bare as he could get, as Peter finally got his pants off. He could feel a heat gathering in his face. Suddenly he didn't want to look at him. He was... _exposed_. Peter could see everything now. The black, lacy garter belt hugging his hips. The satin and lace panties that lay beneath it. Silky smooth, black satin with lace lining just the top. The straps of his garter belt lay taut against his thighs, connecting to a pair of black, opaque stockings, tipped with lace at the tops. His cock was straining hard against the satiny fabric, a dull dampness formed where the head of his cock currently lay. He was sure it was visible.

“Roman...” Peter said, and it sounded tentative, like he was trying not to frighten a wounded animal. It didn't make him feel great. But he was surprised at what he said next. “You're fucking gorgeous...” he breathed out. “I mean, holy shit. It's not something I ever thought I'd want, but...” he trailed off, gesticulating. Roman scoffed, a sly smirk forming on his lips.

“That's fucking gay,” he said, finally looking at him again.

“Sorry, I forgot _someone_ asked me to fuck them in the ass, who was that again?”

“Shut up,” Roman said, kneeing Peter in the side.

“I don't want to take these off you...” Peter said, his eyes trailing his body. “Shit, Roman...You've got me feeling all kinds of weird right now.”

“Stop bein' so fuckin' weird about it,” Roman said with a scoff.

“Sorry,” Peter said, something in his voice portraying that he was not at all sorry. He moved to hover over him, gripping his chin and tilting his head up to kiss him. He released it soon after, using one hand to brace himself while the other reached between Roman's legs. Stroking his hand along his satin covered cock. Roman jerked his hips up, half in surprise and half in desperation. He rolled his hips against the contact, letting out a soft moan against Peter's lips. He felt Peter's hand dip lower, his fingers coming to rub against the clothed opening between his legs. He felt his muscles clench in response despite the fact that he wanted this. At least, he thought he did. It's not like he hadn't taken Peter's fingers before. But there was still some vague facet of nervousness lurking in his stomach. He knew Peter to be adequately sized. He wasn't sure he would fit...

This was also a big step. Roman had felt he'd always been mostly confident in his sexuality. Yeah, he'd given that guy a blowjob once but that was for coke. It's not like he'd ever really looked at guys in that way before. Well, maybe a few times...But there was something decidedly not straight about thinking about wearing women's clothing. He could've just said it was a curiosity. Something he would never act on, so it didn't make him gay or anything. Or bisexual, or whatever. But there he was, actually _doing_ it, and it seemed like a point of no return. That, along with the fact that he was asking Peter to fuck him in the ass. That was probably pretty gay.

But in some way he'd _have_ to have always known. Ever since he'd let Peter into him the first time. But Peter had shown him a side of himself that he hadn't known about. Something beautiful, and damned if he wasn't going to chase that feeling. Who was he to say getting eaten out in the woods by your best friend was gay? Peter knew his body better than he knew himself at this point, it only seemed logical to turn to him...

“Roman are you having a fucking stroke?” Peter suddenly asked. Roman was ripped from his own mind with much force, causing him to jump.

“What?”

“You kinda just...stopped responding.”

“I was fucking thinking,” Roman retorted.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Peter asked, concerned.

“No, I don't know it's just...there's no going back from this. I'm not fucking gay, Peter,” Roman protested. “But what if you fuck me and it makes me gay?”

“Roman, oh my god...” Peter said, exasperated. He sat up so that he was between his legs now, looking down at him. “It's okay to be bisexual. No one's gonna judge you. It doesn't automatically make you _gay_.” He said, absentmindedly running his hands along one of Roman's inner thighs. “Besides, you already couldn't come back from this the minute we started fucking around. You're _already_ past the point of no return.”

Roman only made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, and was very nearly pouting over the fact that Peter was right. Despite this, he still felt Peter pull his legs apart, but stopped before doing anything. He tentatively looked at him, watching him bite his lip slightly.

“Are you really fucking staring right now?” Roman asked. Not sure if he should be annoyed or flattered.

“Fuck, what do you want me to do, Roman, pretend you're not wearing this shit right now? It's kind of hard.” he said, his hand once again rubbing his thigh, going a little lower to run along the stocking. “Your dick barely fits in these, though...”

“They're not made for dicks,” Roman responded. “Come on, stop staring, do something already.”

“Fine,” Peter said, his voice a bit more commanding. “Get on your knees,”

“Oh, _yes,_ daddy,” Roman said sarcastically, in response to Peter's more domineering tone. He flipped over onto his stomach long enough to raise himself off the bed, standing on his hands and knees.

“You know, I know that was a joke,” Peter said behind him, and he felt him grab his ass through his panties , squeezing it slightly. “But that was pretty hot.”

“Really?” Roman asked, amused and surprised. He was about to say something else when Peter suddenly spanked him hard on one side. He let out a surprised, choked off noise from his throat. But it wasn't...bad. There was a silence, an awkward stillness where neither of them moved before Roman finally spoke again. “Jesus, Peter, what the fuck?”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Was it bad?”

“No,” Roman mumbled.

Before he had time to react he felt another hard smack, this time harder than the last. He let out a muffled noise, muttering a 'fuck' beneath his breath. He felt another sharp sting a second later, gasping out. But he was still feeling brave, and he muttered out “Harder, uh...daddy,” Peter laughed.

“What was that?” Peter teased.

“Harder, daddy!” he practically shouted, this time in annoyance. Peter slapped him again, the hardest he had, and he moaned. Reveled in the sting on his flesh. But suddenly it wasn't enough, and he was canting his hips forward, wanting something more.

“Fuck, Peter, do something,” he whined. “Other than spanking me.”

“And what do you say?”

Roman swallowed, his mind suddenly going blank. He was getting desperate. On edge all day, and then with Peter briefly touching him earlier, then spanking him, he needed more...

“Uh...n-no homo?” he asked.

“No, Roman...” Peter said, trying to sound disappointed but there was amusement there.

“Uh..um, p-please, daddy,” he stammered out. “Come on, are you going to make me do this the whole time?”

“Only if you want to,” Peter said, and he felt him push his panties aside as far as they would go, dipping his fingers into the cleft of his ass to rub against his entrance briefly. Roman rocked back on him despite the fact that it was dry, he was craving it. But Peter quickly pulled away, then tapped on each of his inner thighs to signal him to spread his legs further. He did, as far as he could, without feeling like he would fall.

He could feel Peter then spread him open before running his tongue along the area, and Roman let out a shuttered breath as his body tensed, and he rocked back once more. He was so used to this now, craved it so much. In fact, he loved it. God, that was fucking gay. But Peter was _damn_ good with his tongue. He worked his hips against it, eventually abandoning balancing with his arms and falling head first into the pillow below. He buried his face in it, using it to muffle his cries. The uncertainty of how he felt about rimming had been gone long ago, and he felt he could let himself go in front of Peter. But somehow he felt that his volume lately hadn't just been from the fact that he really enjoyed it, but because he knew Peter enjoyed it. When Peter suddenly slapped the side of his ass, he let out something akin to a squeal into the pillow. He was so fucking hard. Straining against the panties, the tip of his cock cresting above the top of the fabric. It, like he, was begging for more. But he reveled in Peter's tongue in him as well. Dexterous and knowing all the right places.

“Fuck, Peter...” he breathed out. “Please,” what exactly was he asking for? More of the same, or something different? When Peter pulled away after several moments, Roman was left wanting him back. But instead, Peter pushed on his hips, guiding him onto his back again. He hadn't seen Peter in several minutes, but he noted he looked disheveled and wild.

“You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, Godfrey...” he breathed out.

“Uh...thanks?” Roman responded, a little winded. Peter chuckled and suddenly leaned over him horizontally, reaching onto the nightstand beside him to grab the lube. His heart started pounding in his chest. The point of no return, he kept thinking, as Peter squeezed some of it onto his fingers. He pushed his panties aside again and Roman felt him probing at his entrance, cold and wet and mildly uncomfortable. Peter really was going to keep these on him... As long as he could, anyway.

He could take his fingers much easier now. Peter had been working on him, slowly, for some time in the past. He still knew how to get him off with just his fingers, and Roman reveled in this. It still took some time, but far less, for Peter to slip his way in. There was still the initial discomfort. He didn't think he'd ever completely be able to ignore that. The wet slickness, the mild burning. It always felt weird having something so slick shoved into him. Made his insides feel uneasy. But he dealt with it, waited for the sensation to settle down and for his body to accept the intrusion. He spread his legs a little further, hooking his ankle languidly along Peter's side.

“When did you become such a slut?” Peter asked, working a second finger inside of him. Roman lifted his hips in an attempt to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling of intrusion. He quirked a brow at Peter and frowned, finishing with a glare.

“Excuse me? What am I doing right now that makes me a slut?”

“Taking it like a champ,” Peter said, still easing his way in as far as he could. “Used to be that I had trouble even doing this. Also, look at how you're dressed,”

“Fuck off,” Roman said with a scoff. But he had always been a slut, truthfully, just with women. “Besides, how does that make me a slut?”

Peter looked at him, gave him a smirk and then suddenly thrust his fingers forward, and Roman jerked his hips up as Peter made a very pointed strike to his prostate. He let out a strangled moan, biting down on his lip and closing his eyes briefly. “Fuck you, Peter...” he breathed out. He began to work his fingers inside him, careful to not hit his prostate much. But he did just enough to keep him occupied. Roman was almost content to let it continue like this. Two was enough for him, it always was. He knew that Peter knew how to work him right from the inside. But he wasn't doing what he usually did, this time. He wasn't trying to get him off. But Roman still craved that. Was so used to this being the norm that he was disappointed. He whimpered, trying desperately to buck his hips against Peter's fingers, who only kept them just out of the reach of where he needed them to go.

“Quit whining, Princess. This isn't the main event.”

“I need it, Peter. Please,” he whined.

“You'll get it when I give you my dick. We're not stopping at two this time. Try to relax while I go up to three,”

Roman nodded, and he felt Peter scissor his fingers inside of him briefly before attempting to slip a third one in. It did not go as well as he intended, and Roman tensed up at the much larger intrusion. He hadn't taken three before. It felt...different. Like too much. He let out a muffled whimper, one of displeasure this time, and once again tried to shift his hips to alleviate the pressure. There was too much.

“You're okay,” Peter said, leaning sideways to place a delicate kiss on the side of his knee. He used another hand to stroke his thigh lightly. “You can do this.”

“That's really fucking uncomfortable,” he hissed, reaching back to grip the pillow behind him in an attempt to ground himself.

“You're going to take way more than this,” Peter said, working his fingers inside of him. Roman merely winced and let out a humming groan. “If you still want to,” Peter reassured.

“I mean, I've gotten this far,” Roman replied, his voice somewhat strained.

“Alright,” Peter said, sounding a little doubtful, but he continued on with his ministrations regardless. It was different this time, though. Peter, when he was trying to get him off with just his hands, was more pointed. But right now it seemed like he didn't have enough room. Instead he was working his arm back and forth, pushing and pulling, ever so slowly. It's not like he hadn't been purposefully holding back.

It was hitting his prostate, but not as direct. It was also stimulating a lot more. The nerves around it that he kind of ignored in favor of that one sweet spot. Peter did finally angle his wrist upwards, making Roman jerk a little with the more sudden, direct stimulation. He let out a breathy, startled moan, jerking his hips downwards.

“You're such a needy little bitch,” Peter said, his words dripping with arousal. The words themselves, however, took Roman aback.

“Jesus Christ, Peter. What the hell?” he asked, not quite offended and more confused than anything.

“Sorry, I just...” he stalled. “You're getting me really worked up.”

“And you start degrading people when you get worked up?”

“Not usually, but you're bringing it out of me.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

“Yes, you should.”

Peter continued as Roman fell silent, working in and out at a slow pace, but faster than he had been before. His body was beginning to get used to the intrusion now. His breathing picked up, intercepted by quiet moans as he squirmed against his touch. Peter stayed clear or his prostate for the most part, but every so often he would push his fingers up and Roman would very nearly see stars.

“Does that feel better?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” he responded, his voice a quiet whimper. Seemingly in response to this, Peter began working his fingers into him harder and faster. It was a very sudden, and he let out a startled, yet pleased yelp in response. His thighs fell open, exposing himself further to the intrusion. He rolled his hips towards him, though he knew Peter probably didn't want him to. Peter continued this for a few moments as Roman's breathing became peppered with pleasured sighs.

Peter suddenly let out something almost akin to a growl, pulling his fingers back and sitting back some.

“I need to take these off,” Peter said, gesturing at the now likely very stained panties. “But keep everything else on.”

Wordlessly, Roman reached underneath him and undid the garters from the back, then moved onto the ones in the front. The minute he did, Peter hastily gripped the panties by the waistband and pulled them off. Once they were off, Roman made quick work of the garters and reattached them to the stockings once more. As Roman had been working off his panties, Peter was very quickly disrobing in front of him, apparently very eager.

“This is going to hurt a little,” Peter warned, reaching to grab the lube up once more.

“We're doing this now...?” Roman asked nervously.

“Yeah, what the fuck did you think I was doing?”

“I-I don't know,” he stammered. “I'm nervous...”

“You'll be okay, Roman. I promise.”

“Alright,” Roman said, swallowing heavily. “Okay, do it.”

Peter busied himself for a moment; most likely lubing up, before Roman felt his hands on his thighs. He pushed them apart and then back towards his chest. He leaned over him, bracing one hand beside him while the other was between his legs. There was no turning back from this. He could feel Peter line himself up, slowly beginning to push forward. It already felt thicker than his fingers and moderately different.

“Go slow, please...” he nearly pleaded, taking in a breath as Peter pushed in further.

“Bear down a little,” Peter told him. And though Roman was not one to take directions he did as he was told. The further Peter pushed in, the more it hurt. A burning, stretching intrusion that made him want to curl up and die.

“That is _not_ supposed to go there,” Roman hissed, whimpering as he gripped one hand onto Peter's shoulder. “ _Fuck,_ ”

“We're almost there, Roman. Just breathe through it.” Peter abandoned holding onto his cock as he got further in, now using it to brace himself instead. He took his other hand, the one not marred by lube and dick germs, and gently ran it through Roman's hair.

God, it was so fucking deep. So much deeper than just his fingers. It didn't feel good. It hurt, and it felt like he was about to shit himself. His entire body was trying to repel this invasion despite the fact that he was trying so hard to relax and do what Peter told him. But it felt like Peter just _kept_ moving deeper, like his dick was miles long.

“If you put another fucking centimeter of your dick in I'm going to shit myself, I swear,” he groaned.

“It's already in, Roman. Just relax...And no, you're not.”

“That's what it fucking feels like,” Roman retorted. His breathing was heavy, shaking and stuttered, and not in a good way. They were intercepted by pain whimpers that he wanted to kick himself for. Tell himself to stop being such a baby. “This is fucking awful, Peter,” he nearly whined.

“Roman, I promise you, it'll get better. We can stop if you want.”

“No, no...” he breathed out. “Just...fuck.”

“Roman, I know you cut yourself for kicks,” Peter said, to which Roman was very mildly offended that he was even bringing it up. “I know you can do this.”

“It's not the same, Peter. Also, fuck you. How do you even know that?”

“Word gets around,” Peter said nonchalantly. “You sleep with practically everybody. Every girl.”

“Fuck off,” he mumbled.

Peter chuckled and leaned down to kiss him. Roman had half the mind to not accept, but he did. It took his mind off the discomfort in his lower half. As much as Peter was telling him to relax, he was still finding it hard. Despite the fact that he'd taken Peter's fingers before, this was so much bigger. So much deeper. His entire body was rebelling. His ass was screaming 'Get out', in no uncertain terms.

But he focused on the kiss that Peter gave him, and he breathed (the best he could with Peter's mouth on him). If he could focus on that and the kiss, he would be okay. He was certain of it.

After a few moments he grew used to it. His body stopped rebelling as much. It still felt a little weird, but less painful and less urgent. Peter finally pulled away, stopping only briefly to stroke through his hair a few more times, then down his face. It was a little weird. A little...intimate. Not that this _wasn't_ intimate.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

“I think...maybe,” Roman replied, though he was still uncertain. His breathing had slowed to a normal pace, his body becoming more comfortable. Peter was staring at him in a way that made it seem like he wasn't really looking, but Roman could tell. His eyes darting along his face and down what he could see of his body. When Peter noticed Roman had caught on he stopped, looking away briefly in embarrassment, perhaps, before looking back down at him. Pushing down the flitted gazes he'd given him before, instead staring him down with purpose. The purpose was probably a conscious effort to not be a fucking weirdo again.

“Keep trying to relax,” Peter said, still staring down at him. There was a kindness and a softness in his face, but Roman also saw anxiety. Peter spoke, and acted, like he was trying not to spook him. He felt him shift inside him. Pull his hips back slowly, and Roman suddenly felt like he was losing control. His muscled clenched around him and he tightened his grip on Peter's shoulder, the other hand gripping the bed sheets.

“Roman, you're okay, relax...” Peter said, stilling for a moment. Roman only whined in frustration and discomfort. He took in a breath and tried to will himself to relax. He felt Peter move in him again and he fought to not clench around him. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back and let out a slow breath. Relax, fucking _relax_. He did not want to call this off. He did not want to know himself as the bitch baby who pussied out of actually getting fucked.

“Do you need a minute?” Peter asked, to which Roman shook his head, opening his eyes again.

“Just keep going,” he assured. And so Peter did; slow, shallow thrusts that made Roman feel incredibly weird at first. There was the pain, at first, which began to diminish the more his body began to relax. Coupled with the fact that felt like he needed to use the bathroom pretty badly. But once he realized that he didn't, it helped him to relax further.

“You seem less tense,” Peter said, pausing for a minute.

“I think I'm good,” Roman assured. He wasn't feeling much yet, but Peter really wasn't doing that much either. “It doesn't feel like much yet, though.”

“Because I'm barely moving,” Peter replied. He pulled back as he spoke, nearly out, then angled himself up as he thrust back in. Roman felt a spark of pleasure radiate through him.

“Oh fuck,” Roman breathed out, warping into a quiet moan.

“I'm trying,” Peter responded. “Is this better?” he asked, pulling out once more and thrusting back in at the same angle. Only this time, he didn't stop. His pace was still slow but now it came on more continuous. Roman could very slowly feel himself unraveling, bit by bit. He let out a heavy breath, letting his head tilt back as he gazed down at Peter. His breathing came out in stuttered pants, his lungs clenching up slightly with nearly every thrust.

“Yes,” he said, moaning around the words. “It's better.”

“Good,” Peter said. Roman noticed his breathing had picked up slightly, but only slightly.

Peter continued on slow for some time. Thrusting into him with ease now, but still gentle as ever. He hovered above him, staring him down with half lidded eyes and pupils blown. He seemed enamored with him at the moment, and Roman wouldn't lie and say that didn't make him feel a little weird. But he was enjoying what he was being given.

He had begun to let out pleasured sighs and soft, hitched moans as the pleasure slowly began to build from the continuous stimulation. He was beginning to wonder if this was it, though? Should he ask him? It did feel nice, and he was sure eventually it would get him off, but it was currently kind of meh.

“You look conflicted,” Peter said, stopping for a moment.

“I'm fine,” Roman responded, a little irritated that he'd stopped.

“Then why do you look so fucking confused?”

“I was just...wondering if it gets better...? Or are you just bad at sex?”

“Seriously, Roman?” Peter said with mild offense. “I'm not bad at sex.”

“I don't know, I mean this is the first time we've fucked so I don't have anything to go off of.”

“Do you want to stop, then? Because it's too boring for you?”

“No, no, it...it feels good, it's just...” he stalled and trailed off.

“I was letting you warm up to it, dickhead,” Peter said, giving Roman a light punch to the bicep. Roman looked at the area in offense.

“Did you really just hit me?”

“Oh, come on, like it hurt.”

“Show me what you can do, then,” Roman challenged, smirking at him. “Unless you really do suck at sex.”

“Alright, fine,” Peter said, a hint of challenge in his voice. Challenge, and the words of someone who was probably going to make him pay. He suddenly thrust forward, harder than he had before. Not enough to kill him, but it was enough. His body jolted, that electric shock of pleasure traveling up his spine. He let out a startled, strangled noise and snapped his hips up, his body now finding the sudden stimulation a little too much. Peter was right, though, it was better. But it was something he felt like he needed to be eased into.

Peter, clearly not getting this message, did not let up. It came in quick succession, the pleasure very quickly ramping up to a boiling point. He didn't feel like he was near coming just yet, but it was a little too intense. He still needed to get used to being dicked down and this was too much. He felt like he was slowly coming unraveled. And he was being embarrassingly _loud_ about it. Expressing fleeting, gasping moans and pleasure that had him gripping Peter's shoulder like his soul was about to float away. But, okay, this was his fault.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” he said, or tried to, his voice strained. He whimpered, gasping as he tried to speak again and it took a moment for his brain to formulate the next words. “Fucking. Stop,” he finally got out. It felt like an effort to even say that. Peter stopped abruptly, and Roman took this chance to catch his breath. He realized now, as he laid there breathing, that his thighs had shook slightly and he was somewhat embarrass that Peter had managed to do that so quickly, and very nearly effortlessly.

“Are you alright?”

“I'm..” he said breathlessly, stalling and letting the words die on his tongue for a moment. “I just...that was too much. Too fast.”

“I'm pretty sure I said I was trying to work you up to it, but _someone_ insisted they knew better.”

“Fuck off,” he mumbled. Peter chuckled at him, cupping his face and leaning down to kiss him briefly. When he pulled away, he seemed to be studying him for a moment before he traced his thumb along his jaw, then to his lip. Roman furrowed his brow in confusion, and he would have frowned had Peter not been pinning the left side of his bottom lip down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, the best he could with limited mouth movement. Peter finally pulled his hand back, seeming somewhat embarassed.

“You've got a pretty mouth,” Peter said.

“You gotta purdy mouth,” Roman responded mockingly, in the most offensively southern accent he could muster.

“Could you shut up for five seconds?” Peter chastised, but only with slight seriousness. “You're into blood, right?”

“How would you know that...?” Roman asked.

“It's not really a secret.”

“Okay...yeah, I am. Why?”

“Yours or someone else's?”

“Both,”

“Are you opposed to the idea now?”

“I guess not...where?”

“On your mouth.”

“You're adventurous...” Roman remarked, then nodded. “Okay, do it.”

Peter rose one hand to his own face, and Roman watched him bite down hard on his thumb. It seemed to take a very concentrated effort and he winced as he seemed to cut into the flesh. He pulled it away as Roman saw blood drip down, running down onto his hand and dripping tiny droplets onto his chest. Peter brought his hand to Roman's face, gingerly swiping his bloodied digit along his bottom lip. At the same time, he suddenly began moving again. It surprised Roman, and he jerked slightly, causing Peter to slip and smear some blood across a small part of his face.

He breathed across Peter's skin in heavier breaths now as Peter continued, again slow at first, but he began building speed and the strength of his thrusts steadily. Peter moved to the top lip, had barely finished spreading it along his skin when Roman suddenly surged up to take Peter's thumb into his mouth. He felt the need to taste the blood Peter was shedding. He ran his tongue over the wound; the shallow, jagged line in his flesh. When the bleeding had stopped, Roman found himself biting it back open to relish as it spilled onto his tongue.

Peter was looking at him with...something, in his gaze. Arousal, but something else. Curiosity? Maybe, but that wasn't all. It was like Peter was seeing into the depths of his soul. Like he knew something Roman didn't. But this wasn't the time to be thinking of shit like that. He couldn't if he wanted to, because Peter managed to hit him just right and he felt like his brain short circuited for a second. He threw his head back, releasing Peter's thumb from between his teeth as he breathed a fleeting moan into the narrow space between them. Peter pulled his hand away, settling it beside Roman to brace himself better.

“You're so fucking weird,” Peter said breathlessly.

“You started this shit,” he responded, his voice strained. Peter was really giving it to him now, not in the way that was like some kind of wild sexorcism like he'd attempted earlier, but enough to make him really squirm. In a good way.

“Well, you look like a real lady now,” Peter said, punctuating with a hard thrust. The noise he made was excessive; a startled groan, high pitched and keening. “Just missing the pearl necklace. Maybe I should give you one,”

“Don't,” Roman moaned out. “Want you to cum inside me,” Roman round his hand to Peter's back, closer to the shoulder he'd found himself still holding onto. His nails dug in with each thrust, taking some of Peter's blood as Peter took his breath away. “I want to-ah, fuck...know. Know what it feels like.”

“Warm,” Peter remarked. Roman could tell he was getting pretty heated too. “Uncomfortable after a while,” he panted.

“Whatever,” Roman scoffed, the best he could with the circumstances. “Do it anyway.” He was finding it harder and harder to speak. His voice strained, warped with cries of pleasure. It was safe to say that he liked this. Fuck, he really liked this. God he felt really gay. He had his doubts before but this was definitely better than getting finger blasted. But he still felt like Peter was holding back. He was afraid to ask him to use his full potential. He wasn't sure he could take it quite yet.

Peter suddenly dipped his head down, low against Roman's neck. He could feel his breath, hot and heavy on his skin, as he fastened his mouth around it. He could feel his teeth on him soon after, biting into the skin, definitely leaving a trace.

“You're-fuck,” he hissed. He hummed out a moan, whispering a string of curses beneath his heavy breaths as Peter continued to fuck into him. “Gonna leave marks!” he finally got out.

“Good,” Peter moaned into his heated flesh. He thrust hard once more, still picking up speed and force as he went. Roman nearly wept, unable to catch his breath without crying out. He could feel his nails cut into the skin on Peter's back once more, who finally seemed to have enough of it. He hissed in displeasure, pulling himself back and reaching behind him to yank Roman's hand off, entwining their fingers as he pinned it to the bed.

“Asshole,” Roman breathed out. He tested his luck, slowly using his other hand to travel up Peter's side. Peter made quick work of the second one, smirking at him as Roman did the best to frown. But it didn't work.

“You're tearing up my back, I'm supposed to just let you?”

“Fucking me too good,” Roman remarked, somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

“Am I?” Peter asked, breathing out a laugh of his own. “Decided you like it?”

“It's-...” he stalled, unable to speak once more. His lungs clenching in his chest from the pleasure, as it shot up his spine and overwhelmed him. “Fucking-good, oh fuck, it's so g-good,” he stammered.

Peter looked down at him, teeth in his lip as he let out a low groan. He cursed under his breath, nearly as heavy as Roman's now. He seemed close, maybe. He wasn't sure. Roman felt like he definitely was, though. He didn't know if he should say anything or not. Thought maybe he should wait until he was closer. What Peter said next threw him for a bit of a loop, effectively taking him out of the moment for a second.

“Do you know how fucking pretty you are?” he panted. “Fuck, Roman...”

“What?” he asked. “N-no...”

Peter let out a soft laugh, bending over to kiss him the best he could. It was a little harder given he was pinning both of Roman's hands back. It was difficult. Roman felt like he couldn't breathe as it was, having someone restrict one of his airways didn't help. He kissed him briefly, but he realized now he was far too close. He broke away, the best he could with Peter so close. If Peter wasn't close by now, he was going to need him to slow down so he didn't get off way before him.

“Fuck, Peter...I can't last much longer.”

“Thank fucking God,” Peter huffed, slowing himself if only briefly. If only to speak to him, to hold him off until the time was right. Slow as it was, it was still building within him. The thread holding him together grew more and more frayed.

“I could keep going like this,” Peter said, panting. “Or I could stop holding back. I could make it better.”

“Stop holding back,” Roman replied, equally as breathless.

“Alright,” Peter said, seeming to gear up for something. He took in a breath, shaking and heavy, and suddenly thrust forward rather hard. Angled directly up, as far as he could, slamming against the sensitive place inside him. Roman, at first, could barely utter a sound. The shockwave was intense, but it only grew. Peter did not stop. He fucked him harder, faster, than he had the first time. When he was trying to prove himself.

It felt so fucking good, he could almost feel it everywhere. Traveling along his thighs, down his legs. His breath was gasping, intermixed with sharp cries that almost sounded mournful. He honestly felt like he was about to break. He was very nearly afraid, but he didn't want to stop. But he felt almost trapped. He need something to hold onto. He needed it, but Peter was pinning him down.

“Peter,” he gasped out, “Fuck, please, please...” he muttered. “Need to-,” he stalled once more. Breath caught in his throat, fleeing finally in a high octave, wavering moan. “Fuck, hold onto you,” he finally got out. Peter released him rather quickly, repositioning himself so he was now braced differently. Roman wasted no time wrapping his arms around Peter's back, pulling him down as he gripped him tightly. His thighs clasped around Peter's waist, and if he had the presence of mind he felt like he probably looked like a sloth right now. But he didn't. All he wanted was to hold on for dear life.

He felt like he was trying to hold onto a mechanical bull. His brain was beginning to short circuit with every thrust and all he knew was pleasure. Literally being fucked stupid. He buried his face in the crook between Peter's neck and shoulder, and he shook. Fuck, he was shaking so bad. His body became tense; tenser every second. The muscles in his abdomen were rock hard, his hips, thighs and arms feeling strained as his pelvis jerked against Peter's. He was begging for release, he felt like he was going to explode. Or implode.

And explode he did, with a guttural cry against Peter's skin. He came hard, his hips stuttered and jerking despite the fact that he wasn't actually fucking anything, it was just muscle movement. The euphoria spread through him, the relief. He vaguely felt a warmth deep within him. Warm and wet, and ...kind of weird. But it was hard, because his head was full of stars and everything felt fuzzy. He also realized, dully, his face was wet. He felt Peter pull out of him, felt a slickness very briefly rush from his body before it was stopped by his own muscles keeping it in. Now he was just waiting to come down.

Once he'd actually stopped physically coming, he expected it. The relief, the relaxation. But that didn't happen. He kept shaking, his breathing heavy and whimpering. Oh fuck, this was weird. Coming had never done this to him before. He turned, curled into himself to try to get it to stop, realizing he'd actually turned towards Peter. He had realized now he didn't know what direction Peter had gone in.

Peter seemed to show concern. He wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close and stroking his back and hair. Somewhat reluctant at first, Roman dislodged himself from his own tangled up limbs and wrapped a hand around Peter's waist, and slotting one leg between Peter's thighs. He just kept shaking, breathing and shivering like he was freezing, but he wasn't. He was pretty hot.

“You're alright,” Peter said.

“You f-fucking dickhead,” Roman muttered, shoving his face against his chest. This was pretty gay, he thought, but right now he also felt like he needed to be held. “What the _fuck_ is this.”

“You came too hard,” Peter said, chuckling. Jesus Christ this was embarrassing. “I guess my dick broke you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered. He was beginning to come down now. The shaking slowed to very intermittent twitches and his breathing started to go back to normal. When he had finally recovered, he shoved himself off of Peter and rolled onto his back. He took deep breaths still, feeling exhausted.

“You almost fucking killed me, Peter.”

“Were you crying...?” Peter asked with concern. Roman ran a hand along his face, along the wetness down his cheeks, pulling it back briefly to look at his hand. Like that was gonna tell him anything.

“I don't remember crying.”

“Holy shit,” Peter said, laughing slightly. “Did I fuck you so good you cried?”

“I don't know!” Roman retorted with irritation. He ran his hands down his face briefly before keeping them there, pressing his palms into his eyes.But it seemed like that. He wasn't going to say that to Peter, though. Didn't want him to get a big head.

“So was it good for you?”

Roman dropped his hands to the side of the bed and looked over at him, barely turning his head to do so.

“Yes,” he admitted sheepishly. “It was almost _too_ good. Please don't ever try to murder me with your dick again.”

“Noted.”

Now that he was laying here, unfucked and not feeling like he was dying anymore, he was actually beginning to feel uncomfortable. His ass was incredibly sore, and the presence of fluid in him was really irritating. He wanted to get cleaned up ASAP. As he began to sit up, though, Peter put a hand to his chest and pushed him back down.

“Dude, what?” Roman asked, noting the crack in his voice as he spoke. He was definitely hoarse.

“Do you trust me?”

“I guess,” Roman shrugged.

“Stay there for a second,” Peter said, rolling off the bed and standing. Roman watched as he pulled on his pants and then pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Seriously?”

“I want to remember this,” Peter said, awkwardly climbing onto the bed and standing over him. Roman simply glared at him as he took what sounded like several pictures.

“That's fucking gay,” Roman said as Peter moved to the side of the bed once more.

“Shut up, whatever,” Peter said.

Roman sat up once more, wincing, feeling a shift in him. Disgusted. He wanted to just get out there and get cleaned up. He debated getting dressed, but he realized he was covered in cum, and full of cum, and he didn't want to get that shit on his clothes. He guessed he could use a tissue but Peter seemed to be lacking at the moment.

“We're home alone, right?”

“We should be,” Peter said, pulling his shirt on.

“I'm using your bathroom,” Roman said, standing. The shift in position just making things worse. “God that's fucking gross. Don't cum in me again either.”

“You're the one who asked for it in the first place,” Peter retorted. He gave Roman a kind of nervous look as he headed out towards the hallway. Roman knew, very quickly, he had made a mistake. Naked as he was, wearing only stockings and garters, he watched Lynda come through the front door with a bag of groceries. They made eyecontact briefly before Roman very quickly backed into the door again and slammed it behind him, proceeding then to have some kind of breakdown.

“Fuck!” he hissed.

“You okay?”

“Your fucking mom came home right as I went out there!” he said, pacing slightly. Feeling disgusting still. “She saw my dick, Peter. She saw _everything_!” Though his tone was one of urgency and fear he still kept himself relatively quiet. A yelling whisper, so to speak.

“Dude, it's fine. She won't care.”

“I care, Peter! Fuck, I can't go back out there. I can't show my face around here ever again.” He paced around once more, now desperately looking for something to clean up with, before finding the discarded panties on the floor. Ruined as they were, he used them to hastily wipe himself down the best he could and then tossed them back onto the floor. He dressed quickly, feeling the remnants of their copulation drip down his thigh and fuck up his pants as he did so. Peter must have come gallons because there was still some in there. He groaned in irritation, looking around the room briefly, before settling on the window behind Peter's bed.

“I'm out,” Roman said, crawling over his bed and opening the window.

“Are you fucking serious, Roman?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Stop-,” Peter said, grabbing his arm and shutting the window. “You're gonna break your fucking ankle.” He stood from the bed and headed towards the door. “I'll distract her, you can just walk out. Don't forget your underwear.”

“Keep them,” Roman said, not really caring about them. “Throw them away, put them on your face and jerk off, I don't give a shit.”

Peter laughed and headed out the door, and after a few moments, hearing talking in the other room, Roman snuck out of Peter's room and out the door. After he'd gotten into his car, and had driven quite a while, it occurred to him that he could have just made Lynda forget what she saw. But he was sure Peter would knock his lights out of he tried that on his mom. But now he was driving, and she would always remember. But he had to forget about that. He was going to go home, release a gallon of jizz from his ass, and then pretend like some of that never happened. And pray to God the woman who did their laundry didn't have any questions about the stains.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I can't write humor and sex without ending up in angst and mpreg land...this installment is going to lead into a multichaptered but short spinoff. It won't be nearly as dramatic as my other works but it also won't be purely as humorous and it will have angst. it's purely optional and you don't have to read it if you don't want to. i may do offshoots of the series in the future that don't directly connect to the final spinoff work, if i just feel like writing more sex. idk.


End file.
